I'll Wait For You
by fiction-fiend
Summary: When Vaughn's life is in danger, Sydney must give up a chance at a normal life to save him. Spoilers if you haven't seen Season 5, and mainly AU, aside from the first few chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Vaughn. . . Vaughn you have to hold on!" a voice called out to him. He was weak and his chest felt like it was on fire, but he mustered up the strength to speak.

"Sydney . . . ? Wh-where . . . what . . ." but those were the only things he could allow himself to say without yelping in pain, or passing out.

"Vaughn, you're at the naval hospital. Everything's going to be fine. I promise you. You just need to hold on." Sydney's voice was pleading, and as the focus returned to his eyes, Vaughn could see that she was holding back tears.

Then, he remembered. He had been going to meet with Lehman and out of nowhere they had been ambushed. Lehman was shot, and there had been plenty of gunfire aimed at himself. He remembered Sydney's voice and then it had all gone black. He assumed he'd passed out.

"Sydney . . . Lehman? Prophet 5 . . ." he tried to muster up the strength to say the words but they were barely audible. Apparently though, Sydney understood and explained.

"Lehman's dead. He never had a chance. And the information on Prophet 5 was taken by those men. Vaughn, you need to rest, okay? They're taking you to surgery right now and you need to save your strength. Do you understand? You have to be all right . . . there's so much you have to look forward to now. I need you - our child will need you."

_Child? Oh my God, our baby. Sydney, oh Sydney, why was I so stupid? I should never have gone after this information after I learned you were pregnant. I can't believe I was foolish enough to let you come along. . . what if this had been you? Oh God, what have I done . . ._

Sydney felt as if the walls of the waiting room were about to close in on her. Everything had just being going so fast lately. First there had been the accident, Vaughn had been kidnapped, she had learned about Prophet 5, and of course, the biggest news of all. She was pregnant. Her. Sydney Bristow. Spy extraordinaire. She was known all throughout the CIA for her offbeat tacticsand had completed missions that she was not expected to survive. She had been shot, suffered through electro-shock therapy and had been hit by a car a time or two. Yet none of these things scared her as much as her next mission - motherhood.

Sure, ever since childhood she had dreamed of becoming the perfect mother. Always there for her daughter, sharing secrets, asking about crushes and braiding her hair, all while enjoying some fresh baked cookies and a cool glass of milk. The perfect suburbanite mom. But that was in the future. Not now, not while she was still with the CIA. Not after learning that Vaughn wasn't actually Vaughn, but Andre Michaux. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of days, and now she learned that Vaughn - her love, her life - might not pull through.

Just as Syd thought she was about to lose herself completely in her thoughts of woe, her father entered the hospital. She was filled with mixed emotions - on one hand, she now had a shoulder to cry on, yet on the other, she wasn't sure how he would react to the news about the newest member of the Bristow clan. She walked over to him and told him the news about Vaughn.

"He's still in surgery. No one's come out and told me anything."

"I hope you understand what you've done." The look on Jack's face indicated to Sydney that she was in for a very serious conversation.

"What?"

"Your heroic efforts to help Vaughn were short sighted. You acted impetuously without the benefit of the facts." Yep, that was her father. He was never great at showing empathy, so he used big words and lectured a lot instead.

"You don't know what you're talking - " Jack cut her off.

"Sydney. Vaughn is not the person you think he is. He's been working with a known criminal." Now he was just stating facts that Sydney already knew.

"Renee Rienne. I know."

Jack's face remained without expression, but he was surprised by this news. Still, he continued on with his lecture. "Then what on earth prompted you to risk your on life, not to mention your professional integrity?"

Sydney sighed. This was it. Time to drop the bombshell. "Dad. Vaughn and I - we're having a baby. There's an explanation for all of this, if you'll let me tell you."

Her father still wore his patented blank expression, but when he heard the news his eyes flashed. He looked as if he was about to retort until a doctor came out of the ER. Sydney's heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

"Is he out of surgery?" she asked tentatively.

"He's in recovery now," the doctor told her. "But the organ damage he sustained is significant, so our expectation is that we'll stop the bleeding . . . but we'll know more in the next twenty four hours."

_In the next twenty four hours. How many times have I heard that before only to receive a phone call telling me that someone I know is dead? Too many. I'm not going to go home and wait for Vaughn to die without seeing him._

"I need to see him," Sydney told the doctor.

"You can wait in his room until he wakes up." The doctor turned around and left the room, leaving Sydney and Jack alone together.

"Sydney, I'll do everything I can to help you both." Jack told his daughter with true sincerity. Sydney nodded politely at her father and headed to Vaughn's room. Jack's cell phone rang.

"Yes?" he answered.

It was Dixon on the other end. "I just spoke to Director Chase. According to her, Dean wasn't in special investigations. Went off the grid two years ago."

"Status?" Jack asked, with a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice.

"He was presumed dead."


	2. Chapter 2

1Sydney was sitting next to Vaughn in his hospital room as Jack walked in. As Jack watched her tend to Vaughn, he really didn't want to be the one to break the news that tracking down Gordon Dean was going to be hard, considering the fact that he was supposed to be dead.

"Hi. Gordon Dean is a ghost. Well placed and well connected." He never really was one to sugar coat the truth. Head on and without fear, that's how Jack Bristow did things.

"What are we going to do?" Sydney asked him.

"Well I have an idea. You might not like it, but it will keep you and Vaughn - and your baby - safe. But you have to play by the rules Sydney. Once this plan goes into action, there's no way out of it."

"Well maybe you'd like to _tell _me the idea instead of being all cryptic. What's so awful about it that you think I won't be able to handle?" Syd was curious now, and didn't like the direction her father was going in. Usually that meant one thing.

_Who's life is he going to put in danger? I don't think he's selfish enough to put any of the people at work in danger and he's not stupid enough to put his own life on the line. Or is he? What the hell have I gotten myself - and my baby - into?_

"Sydney, Vaughn would have to . . . disappear . . . for awhile. Well, at least until we have this all figured out. You couldn't stay in contact with him, you couldn't see him, you'd have to think he was - "

"Dead." Sydney finished for him.

"Exactly. And that's what we plan to do. Kill him - temporarily." Jack's look had only grown more serious since the conversation had begun. "Remember when Sloane was supposed to be executed, but we needed him to help find your sister? I gave him wine laced with a tetrodotoxin compound. It reduced his cardiac and respiratory functions, giving the effect of death with the pesky side-effect of actually dying."

"An that's what you plan to use on Vaughn? Give him this tetrodotoxin stuff and fake his death for the hospital and anyone else interested, and then ship him off to a CIA safehouse while we figure out Gordon Dean's end game?"

"Not exactly. If Vaughn is to appear dead to the people after him, he must disappear - completely. No CIA protection, no comfortable safehouse, he can't even stay in the U.S. He has to be dead to the world - and to you. This is why I warned you before I told you. Obviously you and Vaughn are more than just merely infatuated with each other . . . I think the boy loves you Sydney, and I know you love him."

"Not know where he is? You can't be serious. How do you know he won't keep searching for information about Prophet 5? He's not safe out there on his own Dad."

"Yes, but nor is he safe with you. And you're especially not safe with him. It's in the best interest of both of you to agree to these terms, or you'll more than likely wind up dead."

Sydney's heart felt as if it were about to burst. On one hand, she wanted to refuse her father's offer right here, right now. Tell him that Vaughn would be fine, and that they didn't need his help. But on the other hand, she knew he was completely right, that Vaughn would be in the most danger staying here in L.A. with her.

"All right. I agree with you. He would be safer in some distant country, away from me."

"Good. I'll go get the tetrodotoxin from my storage lock-up and meet you back here in an hour or so."

Jack went to leave when Sydney called him back.

"Dad . . . how do I tell Vaughn? How do you break this sort of news to someone? I can't exactly slip it into casual conversation. Be like 'Hi, it's good that you're awake, oh, by the way, while you were sleeping, we decided that you have to move out of the country, change your name and appearance and not contact me in anyway for an unknown period of time; hope that's okay with you' and think that he's going to take it well."

"Then break it to him gently. You were always good at that sort of thing. Don't know where you got it from. I'm blunt, your mother even more so." The faintest hint of a smile flickered across Jack's face at the acknowledgment of Irina, but disappeared before his brain could even register it happening.

Syd nodded in that polite way of hers and headed into Vaughn's room. He was awake now, and Jack hoped she wouldn't waste time with small talk. They couldn't afford to waste any time at all. He watched her lean over and peck Vaughn on the head. He sighed sadly to himself. He knew all too well that the love they felt towards each other now would dissipate over time, and that one day their luck would run out. Then, he turned on his heel and headed towards the elevator. He knew what he had to do.


	3. Chapter 3

1When Sydney walked into Vaughn's room and saw him sitting up and awake, many emotions came over her. Happiness, sadness, sympathy, love, anger, and even some envy that was going to be able to leave the spy life for awhile. She walked over and sat down on a chair beside him.

"Hey handsome, lookin' good," she said to him. He smiled weakly.

"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself, gorgeous." He reached out and held her hand. "A little glum, but still beautiful."

She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand, but had to look away because she knew what she told him next might just be the most painful thing she ever felt. Maybe even worst then when she had come home to find her fiancé, Danny, dead in the bathtub. Apparently she had let some of the sorrow she was feeling seep into her expression, because Vaughn was staring at her.

"Syd, is everything okay? Because you look like you just watched a puppy get hit by a car."

"Yeah, everything's great . . . oh Vaughn, I can't lie to you. I'm worried sick about you."

"I'm fine Syd, honest. The doctor said that I'm pretty much in the clear now. Heh, they should call me Superman. He who can get shot 11 times and not die . . . but I guess that would probably violate some kind of copyright infringement huh?"

Vaughn was obviously trying to lighten the mood, but Sydney just wasn't feeling it. She was afraid to tell him, but she knew she had too.

"Syd, seriously, what's wrong? You're shaking like a leaf. Or is it some kind of symptom of . . . ummm . . . you know . . . that thing that you are . . ."

"Pregnancy, Vaughn? Do you mean to say it's a side effect of pregnancy?" she snapped at him.

He winced a little at the word and nodded.

"I'm sorry Syd, I can't help it. If I say the word it makes it seem so much more . . . real. You know that I don't scare easily, but the thought of becoming a-a _father_ makes me want to turn and run in the other direction." He looked at her. "From the expression on your face, I'm assuming that's something you didn't want to hear."

"No, Vaughn, it's not that. I'm tremendously afraid too. I don't want to be a shitty parent. What if there's some kind of bad parent gene? Because if there is, I'm pretty much screwed. My mom abandoned my father and I when I was only six, and my dad was pretty much a jackass up until five years ago. I don't want to be like them."

"And you won't. Syd, you're a great person, and you'll make a fantastic mom. You would give up your life for this baby, I know you would. And I can _totally_ picture you in your frilly apron yelling 'Cookies are ready' and changing diapers and sitting in a rocking chair with our baby."

At this, Sydney beamed. There was no one else she could picture herself with, not even Danny. Vaughn was the best. So why couldn't she be honest with him? She realized that she had to tell him - _now_.

"Vaughn, there's something I need to tell you . . ." she began.

He nodded his readiness.

"I was conferring with my dad earlier and he told me Gordon Dean was a ghost. According to the data Marshall's collected, Dean went off the grid two years ago. We're working on a way to find him, but right now, you're not safe here. You're not safe anywhere really, but here especially."

"Go on . . ." Vaughn told her.

"Well, we thought it might be safer for you if maybe you went into hiding. We'd fake your death here in the hospital so that anyone monitoring you other than the CIA would think you were dead. Then you could stay away until we brought down Dean's operation and made sure that everyone involved was either dead or incarcerated." Although Sydney hated this idea, just telling Vaughn the plan made her feel better.

"So you're telling me that I'd have to spend about a year in a safehouse and not be able to see you in person? I wouldn't be there for the birth of our baby? Syd, you've got to be kidding me."

"Ummm . . . well, not exactly. You'd have to leave the country and not tell anyone - including me - your location . . . and you wouldn't be able to have any contact with me - whatsoever." Sydney was easily able to predict Vaughn's reaction.

"This is bullshit. Why can't I just go into CIA custody? I'd be perfectly safe; no one has ever successfully located a CIA safehouse - well, except for you of course."

"Good question. My father said that - "

"Sydney, you can't honestly agree with your father about this. You're not talking about hiding away an artifact or something - this is my life. _I _will suffer the consequences that come about this decision. I won't be here for so many things." A sad undertone crept into Vaughn's voice.

"I know this is hard to accept, but if you stay here, you'll be in even more danger. And you won't just be endangering yourself, you'll be endangering me - and your baby. Think about it. Do you really want your child to grow up not knowing it's father?" Sydney knew that playing the baby card was probably the only way she was going to get Vaughn to even entertain the idea of leaving.

"Sydney, you know I would never, _ever_ want to put you or our baby in danger, but who says me leaving really is the safest idea? In CIA custody, I'd be protected; out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, I'd be against the odds. I know that if faced with the choice, you would rather me die here, at home with you knowing what happened to me than if I was _presumed_ dead in the field."

Sydney sighed. Vaughn didn't want to leave and she didn't want him to leave. So why was she trying so hard to convince him to go? She sighed again and presented the rest of her argument.

"The reason we don't want you to stay in CIA custody is because after looking at the facts, it seems Gordon Dean may have some kind of an informant inside the CIA. He had certified CIA identification, he had inside knowledge on what was going on _and _he managed to infiltrate a secure CIA facility posing as an agent. That doesn't seem a little suspicious?"

Vaughn sat erect in his bed, although it looked as if it hurt a great deal to do so.

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound? No one - once again, aside from you - has managed to breach CIA security measures. And if that was your so-called 'closing argument,' then you failed to pull me over to your side. I refuse your offer Sydney. And you can tell your father that too. I will never willfully leave the United States of America while I am still breathing._ Ever_."


	4. Chapter 4

1When Jack entered the hospital an hour later, he found that Sydney was not in Vaughn's room as he had expected, but sitting in the hospital waiting room.

"Sydney, I have the tetrodotoxin. Why aren't you with Vaughn?"

"He said no Dad . . . he said no." Sydney looked as if she hadn't slept in days and that she had cried for at least half of the time Jack had been away.

"What do you mean he said no? You gave him a choice in the matter?" Jack's gruff voice echoed throughout the hospital and Sydney had to remind him to be quiet.

"Well what exactly was I supposed to do? Force him to leave his fiancee and unborn child just to protect himself? Dad, I know that if you were faced with the same decision, you'd have stayed with Mom and sacrificed your life. Vaughn just wants make sure we're protected."

Jack was getting frustrated now. "And did you not explain to him that by staying here, he was putting you and his child in even more danger?"

"He wouldn't listen. He just wants to be around and not miss out on being a parent. Something _you_ wouldn't know anything about."

Sydney had hit a nerve with that subject. Sure, she was fully aware that Jack would have liked to have been around for more of her childhood, but he had kind of had his hands full saving the world and all. She didn't care though. She wanted Vaughn to stay in Los Angeles. She didn't care who she was putting in danger in the process - even if it was herself. She and Vaughn had been through too much together over the past seven years since she met him (although she had only really known him for five) and she wasn't going to let anything stand in their way this time.

"Sydney, listen to yourself. You're willing to risk not only your life, but the life of your child just so you and Vaughn can spend a few months together? Who knows how fast Gordon Dean will be able to track him down after he's released from the hospital. It could only be a few days and then the next thing you know, Vaughn's dead and you are too."

Sydney had had enough. She had been through so much in the past few days and all she felt like doing right now was curling up in bed and sleeping for a week straight. She knew that obviously wasn't an option, but it sounded so tempting. She was just so tired . . . too tired to continue fighting with Jack over something she knew in her heart was best.

"All right, fine, you win," she sighed. "I know Vaughn can't stay here without putting everyone in danger, but I told you he said no. What do you suppose we do?"

Jack looked surprised at the fact that he had won the argument without much persuasion. He thought for a moment and then told Sydney his plan.

"Vaughn's doctor is going to tell him to drink something soon so he doesn't get dehydrated. When I see the doctor getting ready to walk into the room, I'll slip the tetrodotoxin into the water and once the doctor leaves the room, you'll let Vaughn drink it. Shortly after, he should crash."

Sydney didn't like the sound of that at all, but she complied. As she turned towards Vaughn's room, Jack called her.

"Oh Sydney."

She acknowledged him by nodding.

"Remember to make it look real, or all this will have been for nothing."

At this she walked away from Jack and into Vaughn's room. She found him slightly loopy, but awake nonetheless.

"Hey Syd . . . they just upped my morphine drip . . . I feel really . . . meh," Vaughn slurred.

In spite of the gravity of the situation, Sydney chuckled to herself. Vaughn seemed to be in hospital at least once a month, yet the morphine always left him so incoherent. Sydney's body had apparently built up a tolerance to morphine, which made getting seriously wounded all the less pleasant.

_Mind you, I can't exactly get myself shot anymore can I? I have someone else to look out for now, not just me. I don't know how I'm going to cope with something as mind boggling as pregnancy. And what about field work . . . how am I going to be able to do that? Oh God, maybe they'll put me behind a desk! Dammit, shut up brain, not now. You'll have plenty of time to deal with this later, when Vaughn's life isn't in danger . . ._

Sydney was able to quiet her thoughts and remember that she was here to be with Vaughn. This could be the last time she saw him for the next couple of weeks, or even months. God forbid years . . .

"Sydney, I wanna apologize about earlier. I was outta line telling you that I wasn't going to leave the country and I'm really sorry - "

Sydney cut Vaughn off before he had a chance to speak. "I understand your reasons for wanting to stay Vaughn. I want you to stay too, but it's just so dangerous if you do."

"Then what _are_ we going to do?" Vaughn asked her.

Although Sydney already knew the answer to this question, she just stroked his hair and smiled at him.

"We're not going to do anything right now. Everything will work itself out in time. It always does."

"Hey Syd?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you thought at all about baby names?" Vaughn asked her quite seriously.

"What? I just found out about this like yesterday Vaughn. When would I have had the time?"

"I dunno. It's just that, I thought all women had like a list of names stored in their brains, for when the time came."

"Michael C. Vaughn, was that a trace of sexism I heard?" Sydney said humorously.

As Vaughn was about to respond, a doctor walked into the room. Jack, who was standing at the door, caught Sydney's attention. He nodded at her, and her heart fell. The tetrodotoxin was in the water, and everything was in place.

"Hi there, didn't mean to interrupt," the chipper doctor said. "I just wanted to check on the patient. How are you feeling Mr. Vaughn?"

"Aside from the blinding pain? Better than ever." Vaughn smiled. "Just tell me when I can get outta here."

"Oh I'm afraid that won't be for awhile Mr. Vaughn. But, in the mean time, we don't want you to wind up in worse condition then you came here in."

The doctor turned his attention to Sydney.

"Make sure he drinks this," he said, pointing to a glass of water. "Don't force it on him just give it to him in slow sips. No gulping."

Sydney nodded, and the doctor placed the water on the table and left the room. Jack had also disappeared from view.

"I always liked the name Owen." Sydney told him as she gave him the water.

"Owen. Sounds like something you name a gerbil."

"Clementine is cute."

"For a fruit."

"It's also a name." Sydney said in defense.

"It's also a campfire song." Vaughn said, once again retaliating.

"Okay, you don't like that one. What about Isabel?"

"Isabel Vaughn. Isabel _Bristow_ Vaughn."

"That's pretty." Sydney's eyes started to well up with tears. "I like that."

"Me too," Vaughn said, his eyelids starting to droop. "Sorry, Syd, I'm getting so tired."

Sydney comforted him while trying not to cry. "Close your eyes. I'll be right here."

"Syd, I love you." Vaughn told her, now almost totally under the effects of the tetrodotoxin.

"I love you too."

Sydney kissed him once on the lips, then again on the forehead. She walked away from his bed, and heard the machines start to beep frantically. She knew Vaughn was flatlining. Time for the show to begin.

As doctors rushed in, Sydney was swept out of the room. She tried to push her way back in, but to no avail. She watched through the window as the doctors tried to revive her fiancé, and the tears started to flow freely. Although she knew Vaughn wasn't really dying, the tears she was crying weren't fake. To see him hooked up to all those machines and wires, and realizing just how weak he was saddened her to no end.

The doctors charged the paddles once more, and when Vaughn's heart rate didn't return, Sydney saw a doctor shake his head. As of now, 2:34 p.m. on a sunny May day, Michael C. Vaughn was dead to the world. And a little piece of Sydney Bristow had died with him.


	5. Chapter 5

As the doctors wheeled Vaughn out of the room with the white sheet pulled over him, Jack caught Sydney's eye. He gave her a knowing look. She blinked at him quickly. He understood at once. It was morse code.

m-e-e-t-m-e-a-t-9-b-e-h-i-n-d-c-r-e-d-i-t-d-a-u-p-h-i-n-e

Meet me at 9 behind Credit Dauphine, Jack translated. He blinked back:

m-a-k-e-i-t-8

Make it 8. Sydney wondered why. Oh, but of course . . . at about nine, Jack would have to break into the morgue so he would be there when Vaughn woke up.

_And send my beloved far away . . . Why can't anything good ever happen in my life? We should be married already, and we should probably already have a child. But the damn Covenant stole me away from him for two years, and he married that treacherous bitch Lauren. I wonder what our life would be like if I hadn't disappeared . . . _

"Ms. Bristow?" A timid voice squeaked.

"Hmm?" she swivelled around to see a doctor standing there.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news about your fiancé, Mr. Vaughn," he said solemnly. "As you may have assumed, Mr. Vaughn . . . passed on a few minutes ago."

Sydney nodded slowly. She felt bad for the poor doctor. It was his job to tell people that their relatives, lovers, and friends had passed on.

"I know. I saw him crashing. And then you pulled the sheet up . . ."

The tears flowed freely again. The doctor nodded, gave his condolences and walked away. Sydney looked up, but Jack had already gone. She cast one last glance at the gurney that Vaughn was on, and then walked away.

5 and a half hours later

"You're late," Jack Bristow chided his daughter.

"Yeah, you're right, I am. But y'know what? I don't really care." Sydney Bristow walked up beside him.

"Sydney, I know it's hard, but you should try and have a good demeanor about this."

"But Dad, I thought I was supposed to be fooling the 'bad guys,'" she replied dryly.

"Yes, well, there's no reason a grieving . . . uhh . . . friend can't be positive after their other . . . friend's . . . death." Jack said awkwardly.

"Oh for God's sake Dad, can you just acknowledge the fact that Vaughn and I were - are - lovers? We were going to Santa Barbara to elope, and I'm pregnant with his child. That makes us a little bit more than friends, don'tcha think?"

Jack looked up at the sky, then down at the ground. Although his face showed no sign of it, he felt very uncomfortable having this conversation with his daughter.

"Well, moving off that subject, why did you ask me to meet you here anyway?"

Sydney rolled her eyes. With her father, everything was business.

"I wanted to give you this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a manilla envelope, roughly 8 ½ by 11 inches long. "It's for Vaughn. Since I can't see him or talk to him until I don't when, I wanted to give him something."

She handed the envelope to Jack, who placed it in an inside jacket pocket.

"Please, don't read it, okay?" Sydney asked him. Jack noted how much younger she sounded. It was like she'd reverted back to being 5.

"I won't. I understand confidentiality Sydney. I thought you would have understood that by now." Jack looked at his daughter once again. "Why did you want to meet here?"

"I just told you. I wanted you to - " Sydney was cut off.

"I know _why _youwanted to meet here, but I don't know why you wanted to meet _here_."

Sydney sighed. She realized that her father knew that this wasn't exactly the best spot for a private meeting, so she decided to explain herself.

"I wanted to come here because it was familiar. Everything else is just so . . . so . . . fucked up. . . right now, but not this place. It's a constant. Sure, I worked here everyday for six years not knowing that it was actually an evil organization, but that's beyond the point. There are plenty of

good memories here, and - although this may sound really fucking weird - I kind of miss the simple days of SD-6, y'know?"

Sydney expected her father to shake his head, because to Jack, life was a job. One mission down, a million more to go. But instead of telling her that she wasn't making since, he walked over to her and hugged her. And it wasn't one of the "you did good" hugs she got from him after a particularly difficult mission, this was a real father-daughter; the one that she'd wanted ever since she was five years old.

Although Sydney felt a little awkward at first, she soon embraced it and squeezed her father hard. She began to sob, and eventually the tears streamed down her face, causing her mascara to run onto her father's overly-expensive overcoat, but he didn't care. He just stroked her hair and squeezed her back. Although Jack usually kept a calm demeanor, the fact that his little girl's world was collapsing around her made his heart ache. All he knew is that he wanted to find the bastard's that had caused her pain, and tear them limb from limb with his bare hands.

The hug finally came to an end, and Jack told Sydney he had to leave. She nodded in understanding, thanked him and kissed him once on the cheek before heading to her car. She knew that she had never had a "normal" relationship with her father, but from the way things had gone tonight, it looked like at least one old wound might finally heal itself.

1 hour later in the morgue

Jack Bristow snuck up behind a guard, and slowly but with utter strength snapped his neck. He caught the unsuspecting watchman, and slowly lowered him to the ground. Poor guy, never had a chance. But Jack had other things on his mind, like making sure the love of his daughter's life was safely transported out of the country. He crept around the morgue, opening up drawers here and there, peeking under sheets, going into different rooms, until he found Vaughn, who had been zipped up in a standard-issue black bodybag.

Jack was usually a patient man, but tonight, he didn't really feel like waiting around, so pulled out a six inch hypodermic needle filled with adrenaline. He took off the cap, tapped the side carefully 3 times and then plunged it into Michael Vaughn's heart.

A loud gasp filled the room, and Vaughn looked around frantically.

_Where am I? What happened? Am I okay? Oh God . . . WHERE'S SYDNEY?_

The only thing he heard was a familiar voice say "Welcome back to the living Agent Vaughn."


	6. Chapter 6

1Vaughn had a million questions running through his mind, most of them involving Sydney in some way, but his mind just couldn't focus. Although he had been unconscious for an unknown period of time, being shot with adrenaline did amazing things to a person. It was like an extreme case of over excitement. Despite that, Vaughn managed to focus his eyes, and his brain somewhat, and realized that the room he was in was a morgue, and that the figure standing over him was Jack Bristow. And when you found yourself alone with Jack - _especially_ in a morgue with Jack - you knew some deep shit had just gone down.

"Mr. Bristow . . . where's Sydney? What happened to me? Why are _you_ here?"

"So many questions Agent Vaughn, so little time." Jack was speaking in a tone Vaughn had never heard before . . . could that be _anxiety_ Vaughn heard in his voice? "We need to get a move on, so I'll keep this as brief as possible: alive, you were a danger to Sydney and your baby; dead, you're well . . . dead. Simple enough?"

Vaughn was utterly confused. "Dead? What do you mean 'dead?' And why did you say alive in the past tense? Oh my god . . . you went through with it, didn't you? You faked my death! Unbelievable! I can't believe you would - okay I believe _you_ would do this to me, but Sydney can't have been in on this."

"Impressive, Agent Vaughn. That only took you about . . . 7 seconds to figure out. Better than what I was expecting."

"Listen here, you bastard. My name is Michael Vaughn, and considering the fact that you were going to be my father in-law up until Sydney and I caught hit by a fucking car, you can either call me Vaughn or Michael. Drop the 'Agent' bullshit. I know you don't like me, and I sure as _hell_ don't like you, but we both love Sydney a great deal and care about her safety. So let's just try and put our differences aside and concentrate on the fact that you faked my FUCKING DEATH without my consent."

By the time Vaughn was finished, he was breathing heavily, and a deep pain had risen inside his chest. The realization of the fact that he was literally dead to the world kind of made him forget about the 11 or so bullets he had taken to the chest earlier. Mind you, if he had actually just called Jack Bristow a bastard, he might not live long enough to feel the full extent of his injuries. Jack opened his mouth to speak, and although Vaughn was expecting the wrath of Satan, he was surprised at Jack's response.

"Agent Vaughn . . . Vaughn . . . what you did right there took guts. You're right, I don't particularly like you, because I thought you to be a coward and I never felt you were good enough for my daughter. Well, if Sydney loves you, that's fine, and from what I just heard, maybe you aren't a coward after all."

Vaughn smiled smugly, but stopped when he noticed the way Jack was looking at him.

"Now, Vaughn, we must leave - and quickly. We don't have much time to spare, and since I have a lot to tell you, it's best that we do it en route to our destination."

Vaughn nodded and jumped off the gurney. The adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins helped lessen the pain from his wounds, but didn't stop the embarrassment he felt after realizing he was nude . . . in front of Jack Bristow.

"Cold in here, Vaughn? Or is it just you?" It was Jack's turn to smile smugly.

Vaughn quickly grabbed a sheet and covered his lower section. The fact that the sheet he grabbed was clear just added insult to injury. He muttered a curse, and made sure that the second time, he grabbed a cotton sheet - a _black _cotton sheet.

He followed Jack through the maze of hallways in the morgue, until they finally reached an exit door. Once outside, they ran to Jack's awaiting black Land Rover, a change from his usual navy blue sedan.

"There's a change of clothes waiting for you in the passenger seat. There's a duffle bag with some more things in the trunk. Sydney packed it for you."

"Sydney? Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait . . . you mean to tell me Sydney _was_ in on this?" Vaughn said while putting on his pants.

"Yes. She was torn about leaving you, but I believe she made the right decision. And _she_ believes she made the right decision. You, Vaughn, are the only one who disagrees with what we did."

"How many people know that my . . . death . . . was a fake out?"

"Just you, Sydney and I. We couldn't risk telling anyone else at APO. Word that you were alive might have somehow leaked out, and we'd be right back where we started."

Vaughn finished putting his clothes on, and Jack started the large SUV. Vaughn got in, and Jack took off. They flew out of the parking lot, and instead of taking the highway, Jack turned onto a dirt road and headed off into the desert.

"Jack, where are we going? What's going on? It would be helpful if I were in on this."

"I'm taking you to the desert. There, I will let you out and you will walk 2 miles to a small, seemingly out of commission airstrip. You are to go to the front desk of the first building you see. Look for a keypad. Type in the code 4747-793, and when you hear a tone, say the word 'robin.' If you do all this correctly, a short, Mexican man will greet you. In turn, you will give him this - "

Jack produced a passport and several bills from his jacket pocket. Vaughn opened the passport, and looked at it. It was obviously not a government-issued passport, but the work on it was incredibly good. The untrained eye would never be able to detect it was a forgery, and Vaughn assumed that was the point.

"Your new name, as you can see, is Etienne DuPuis, a French banking specialist. You have just finished business with a high-profile client, and wished to escape the country without attention. I doubt Miguel will ask your back story, but just in case."

"And what if I refuse?" Although Jack snorted, Vaughn stared at him seriously. Jack looked at Vaughn, realizing he was not kidding, and gave him a choice.

"Vaughn, apparently you are _not_ taking this seriously, so I'm giving you an ultimatum. Either you choose the foolish route, and I turn around and drive you back home to Sydney. You two live out a happy life, until, that is, you are found, and killed. And not only will you be killed, but Sydney and your child will be too. Or the other choice, which is although you do not see Sydney for an undetermined amount of time, you will at least live in solitude knowing that she and your baby are safe. So what will it be Vaughn? Choice one, or choice two?"

Vaughn just stared at the floor of the car. The decision was obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Apparently, Jack was able to tell what he was thinking.

"I'm assuming from your silence and that look in your eyes that you chose the latter. I assure you, it _is _the right choice Vaughn."

"Then why doesn't it feel right? Why does it feel like I'm making a horrid mistake that I'm going to regret as soon as I leave this vehicle."

"Sometimes, we all have to make a choice between what is easy and what is right."

They sat in silence for the rest of the trip, and after what seemed like ages, the vehicle finally came to a halt.

"Time to go Vaughn . . . or should I call you Etienne?"

Vaughn did not acknowledge Jack. Instead, he walked to the back of the SUV, opened the trunk and grabbed the black duffel bag. He opened it to find clothes, a gun, a LOT of money and his favourite picture of Sydney and he together. She said she hated because she was smiling like a "goof" but Vaughn loved it. He said it was her natural smile and it was beautiful. Just looking at it made him miss her already. Jack came around to the back and handed Vaughn something.

"Plane tickets? The pilot doesn't know where he's going?"

"Oh, he knows where he's going, but that's not where you're going," Jack said cryptically. "He's dropping you off in Guadalajara. From there, you can go to anyone of those 12 destinations. But don't tell me where. Don't tell anyone where. Just get on the plane and go where you want to go. You're on your own once you get there."

"And if the money runs out?"

"The money won't run out. In your bag, there's information about an offshore account - _your_ offshore account. Every month, $10 000 will be wire-transferred there. I will make sure it is untraceable, and you can withdraw however much you need whenever you need it."

"Okay then. Sounds like I'm pretty much set. Am I good to go?"

"Just one more thing," Jack said, his tone becoming menacing. "Do not pursue the Prophet 5 lead. Keep a low profile and be inconspicuous. I have people _everywhere_. I will know your actions if or when you do something stupid. Got it?"

"Yessir," Vaughn said with all seriousness. He turned to walk away from Jack, when suddenly he was called back. "What is it?"

Jack pulled something out of his overcoat. He handed it to Vaughn. "Sydney wanted me to give this to you. I don't know what it is, she told me not to read it. I assume it's something . . . personal."

Vaughn nodded and took the envelope. He shook Jack's hand, thanked him, and walked away into the all-engulfing darkness, not knowing if he would ever see Sydney again.


	7. Chapter 7

1Sydney sat on her couch, anxiously awaiting her father. When she heard someone knock, she literally jumped off the couch and flew to the front door. She opened it and, as she had expected, it was her father.

"Is he okay? Is he safe?" Sydney had so many questions, but she knew Jack would never be able to answer them all. He probably didn't even _know_ the answer to most of them.

"The last I saw, he was walking off into the desert, looking like a lost puppy," Jack had never really liked Vaughn, but Sydney thought she detected a hint of emotion in her father's usually monotone voice.

"Did you give him the envelope? Did you _read_ what was in the envelope?"

"Sydney, I told you I wouldn't. I understand privacy more than you think. Besides, I could tell it was personal. I loved someone the way you loved Vaughn once," Jack said, mildly reminiscent.

"Dad! Did you have an affair?" Sydney teased.

"No, Sydney, I meant your mother," Jack smiled affectionately at his daughter. "Long before Irina Derevko, I was deeply in love with the woman I believed to be Laura Bristow. And although she may not have reciprocated my feelings, I choose to believe that what we had wasn't a complete sham. We had you, didn't we?"

Sydney smiled at Jack. Although her emotions were completely unbalanced, she believed that the sudden love she felt for her father was real. The relationship they shared was . . . complicated, to say the least, but they were working on it. And considering that it turned out Jack hadn't killed Irina after all was definitely helping their relationship.

"So, have you started the arrangements for Vaughn's funeral?" Jack asked suddenly.

"Dad, I'm still recovering from the fact that my fiancé just 'died.' When would I have had time to start making funeral plans?"

"I don't know. But we should have one by week's end at the latest. People might get suspicious otherwise." There was the overly pre-cautious Jack that Sydney knew.

"Dad, no one will get suspicious. He 'died.' Everyone's going to be in shock. It's only natural that the funeral takes awhile to plan. And considering that I was his fiancé, and will be the mother of his child, it would obviously take me longer to get over it than everyone else."

"Sydney you're a CIA agent. Everyone knows that you must be able to compartmentalize your feelings. You should be able to appear substantially less distraught by tomorrow, never mind by week's end."

"All right . . . I'll get on it." And with that, Sydney said a polite goodbye to her father, brought out a pint of Haagen-Dazs and got to work.

1 Week Later

Vaughn's "funeral" was beautiful. All his closest friends were in attendance, and everyone paid rapt attention to the eulogies given by Eric Weiss and Marshall Flinkman. Tears were shed all around for their fallen comrade, but one person did not cry. Not so much as one tear. Sydney Bristow had learned to manage her emotions long ago, and was, one presumed, too dignified to show weakness. She merely sat in silence during the ceremony, wearing a blank expression. No laughing during the comic relief by Weiss, or at the sheer stupidity of something Marshall said; no tears during a touching memory; no smile at the mention of something great Michael had done. Even Jack Bristow had snorted when Marshall said something inappropriate. But not Sydney. Although people presumed it was either the CIA training, or just the shock of being there, Sydney had to keep her emotions in check for fear of losing control of them completely.

A part of her wanted to scream, to just let it all go. A part of her wanted to cry, and just mourn her loss. These were perfectly acceptable, but it was the other thing she needed to make sure didn't happen. A part of her wanted to give up the charade, and tell everyone Vaughn was alive. She was afraid that if she let her calm facade slide away, then she would end up revealing the truth. And that, she could not handle.

So, as the ceremony ended, she watched the pallbearers carry the coffin (the _empty_ coffin) away, and followed them out the door. The sunlight of the street was such a nice change from the dim light of the church, but the sun would never cheer her up completely again. The coffin was loaded into the hearse, and Sydney and her father followed behind it all the way to the cemetery. They sat side by side in the front row, listening to everything the priest had to say. Sydney had a slight feeling of deja vu she just couldn't shake. As the priest ended the final eulogy, Sydney thought she saw someone among the tombstones. She blinked. No one was there.

_Oh God, I'm hallucinating already. I couldn't have at least waited until after the "funeral" to start seeing things? Oh dear . . . what have I gotten myself into? Maybe it would have been a better idea just to have him stay here, and live out the rest of our numbered days together. At least we wouldn't have been separated . . ._

"Sydney? Syd? Hello . . . is anybody home in there?" It was Eric Weiss.

"Oh, sorry Eric. What's up?" The funeral was over, and everyone was leaving. Only the members of APO were left behind at the cemetery.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed really . . . distant . . . during the ceremony. Do you think some magic tricks might help cheer you up?" Weiss eagerly pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket, but Sydney shook her head.

"Oh, I just thought that magic would make all you Derevko-women smile . . ." Eric attempted to stop his train of thought, but it was too late. The mention of "Derevko" was enough to make Sydney's heart ache. After Jack had given Irina permission to escape from Sovogda, she had promised Sydney she would keep in touch, even if they couldn't see each other face to face. Sydney had checked her mother's earrings everyday after she had gotten home, in search of some kind of message from Irina, but so far nothing.

And the Nadia situation wasn't faring much better. Although Sydney could see her sister almost as often as she wanted, Nadia was being kept in a drug-induced coma, because the symptoms of the giant Mueller Device still hadn't worn off - and the doctors weren't sure if they ever would. It seemed like everyone in truly important Sydney's life had abandoned her, except for her father.

"Well, Syd, I guess I'll just leave you here to . . . mourn, for lack of better words." Weiss turned to walk away, but Sydney stopped him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she just shook her head, grabbed his arm, and let him lead her to her car.

Sydney was sitting on the couch reading later that night when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She wasn't expecting anyone, especially this late, so she was interested to see who it was. She walked to the front door, and when she opened it, she was greeted by a tired looking UPS man.

"You Sydney Bristow?" he asked.

"Yes. Who wants to know?"

"Ma'am, I'm a delivery guy. I don't really want to know, it's just in my job description. Here," the man, who's nametag read 'Earl' handed her an envelope, similar in size to the one she had given Vaughn earlier.

"May I ask who it's from?" Sydney was intrigued by the delivery, although it was merely an envelope.

"Ask away, but I don't know. There was no return address. Sign here please."

Sydney did as Earl asked, and as soon as the man left, Sydney ran back to the couch and opened the envelope. Inside was a letter, a picture, a watch and two mini-cassette tapes. Sydney knew immediately it was from Vaughn. She tore open the letter and began to read.

_Syd,_

_I know this is extremely dangerous, writing to you and all, but I couldn't leave without giving you something. I haven't been able to muster up the courage to read your letter yet, but I'm sure it will be great, and that it will help me remain sane while we're separated. I watched my funeral today. It was so weird . . . I guess I kind of know how you felt now huh? It seemed as if everyone I'd ever met was there, even the coffee guy from the Joint Task Force. It was so surreal, like it wasn't real, yet it was. They all thought - think - that I'm dead. At least you and your father know the truth._

_Well, I don't exactly know what to write, so I'll just explain the things I gave to you. The picture is your favourite, the one of us that day at APO. We were celebrating Christmas, and I caught you under the mistletoe. Marshall somehow managed to sneak up on us and get a picture. Remember? You wanted to frame it, but I wouldn't let you. I just kept it with me, as a reminder of our love. When I learned I'd be going away, I had to make sure I got it to you somehow, so you wouldn't forget our love. Anyway, next is the watch — my father's watch. I want you to have it, so that if I don't return, then one day our child can have it. Make sure he/she knows that they can set their heart by that watch. Last, but not least, are the tapes. We made these just goofing around in the bedroom one day. I had about 16 to choose from, but I picked these 2 in particular; one, because we professed our love for each other, and two, because we sound like utter goofballs. Make sure our baby knows the sound of his/her father's voice, I don't want him/her to forget me before he/she is even born (note how I'm saying he/she rather than it)._

_I guess I should stop writing and go now. If your father knew I'd waited for him to leave before heading back to Los Angeles, I'm pretty sure he would have killed me (for real). I have to catch a plane heading to Guadalajara, then choose a destination at random. I don't know where I'll end up, but it'll be hell with you not there._

_So, good-bye for now mon amour et mon beau bébé, and I promise I will be back for you._

_Love, Your One-Day Husband;_

_Michael Vaughn _

As Sydney folded up the letter and put on Vaughn's wristwatch, she noticed she was crying. And for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy. This letter was like her beam of light through the clouds, her shelter from the storm. After all, they would find each other. They always found each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Holy crap guys, I am so sorry. It's been about a bajillion years since I last updated. I meant to put a new chapter up in mid-February, and here were are in mid-March. Wow. I will try to never to that again, but my writer's block was insane, and I started working on a Smallville story and just . . . arrrgggh! So, my apologies once again, and here it is, the long awaited Chapter 8!

PS. Although I guess it was an AU fic to begin with, it's now 100 AU. I sort of like the S5 plotline with Prophet 5 and all that jazz, but kidnapping a pregnant Sydney? Nuh-uh, that's against my moral fibre. So, let the make believe begin!

* * *

The room was dank and dark. It was hardly furnished, containing only a beaten up couch, a tiny kitchen, and a cot in an adjoining room. It was a definite change from Sydney's warm and homey apartment, but Vaughn knew he'd have to get used to it. The short motel attendant handed him a key and Vaughn slipped him some cash as he left. Vaughn was somewhere in Spain, the city of El Prat de Llobregat, southwest of Barcelona. He didn't know how Jack had even heard of this place, but sure enough, here he was. He didn't know what on the ticket had caught his eye, probably that it was fairly unheard of, but he had decided to take a chance and go there. 

He walked into the bedroom, if it could even be called that, and threw his bag on the bed. He was tired, but it was still early, so he decided it was best that he unpack. He threw his clothes in the badly crafted dresser and stashed the money under a loose floorboard. The gun he tucked into his pants pocket, just in case, and decided that he would stash it somewhere later. That was all Jack had told him was in the bag, but there was plenty more. Apparently Sydney had thrown in some of his creature comforts, just so he would feel slightly more at home in a foreign country.

There was a small CD player/stereo, his CD case and his discman. Sydney always chastised him for not moving into the digital age and just buying an MP3 player already, but he believed that songs sounded there best on CD, not downloaded. He plugged in the stereo and as he was about to put in his RENT CD (his secret favourite) when something caught his eye. It was an Our Lady Peace CD. They were one Sydney's favourite bands, and she listened to them a lot, almost as much as she listened to Coldplay. Vaughn liked them too, but had never really expressed enough interest to go out and buy one of their CD's. He picked up the case and read the title. "Clumsy." Ironic. He flipped it over, and the date read 1997. It was very old. Why had Sydney purchased this one for him? He opened the case and plunked the CD into the player. He clicked on. It was pretty good, but the singer had a weird voice. It was unique, but it sounded kind of . . . paranoid. Another attempt at irony on Sydney's behalf?

Vaughn reached into the duffle bag once again and this time pulled out two things: first, the picture of he and Sydney together, and the second, that certain manila envelope that he hadn't stopped thinking about since Jack had given it to him. He grabbed the picture frame and placed it carefully on the nightstand beside the envelope. He blew a quick kiss at the picture, and went back to unpacking. He knew he should really open the letter from Sydney, but he just couldn't muster up the courage. He knew that his emotions would run rampant, and he couldn't handle that. He was Michael Vaughn, not some sissy who cried over a damn letter. He was a hockey player, and he was tough as nails. He decided he would put the letter away until there came a night where he would drink much tequila and forget he even read it the next morning. It was so simple, why couldn't he just do it? It was there, just sitting on the nightstand, waiting to be opened.

_Fuck it. I'm gonna do it. I'm in a random foreign country away from the woman I love. Who gives a damn if I cry alone in a fucking motel room?_ _It's my life, and I'll do with it what I please. Actually, now that I think about it, I guess I won't . . ._

Vaughn grabbed the envelope from the table and tore off the top. He emptied out the contents onto the cot and sorted through them. Inside was a letter, a wedding band, a video-cassette tape and what looked as if it was an ultrasound picture. Vaughn, anxious to know the meaning of the objects, opened Sydney's letter.

_Vaughn,_

_I know that you're probably pretty pissed off at me right now, and I'm sorry, but I believe that this was the right thing to do, and deep down in your heart you know that too. Although we'll be apart, you'll be safe and so will the baby. Our baby. _

_I bet you're wondering the meaning of the items right about now, so I'll briefly tell you about them. The wedding band. Well it's kind of obvious isn't it? Before you "died," I had Marshall work some internet magic and well . . . legally, we're married. I'm Mrs. Sydney Bristow-Vaughn. Pretty amazing huh? Other than you and I, Marshall's the only one that knows about it. I haven't even told my father. I wanted it to be something we could share. Next I guess is the ultrasound picture. That's our baby Vaughn. It turns out I'm 2 months pregnant and I didn't even know. I feel kind of bad for not realizing it earlier, but the doctor assured me it was true. Make sure you keep that close to you at all times, I want it back when you come home :) Finally there's the video-tape. It's kind of a good-bye, and me sounding like an idiot. Nothing really important, I just didn't want you to forget who I am._

_I guess that about covers it. Vaughn, I want you to know this is not good-bye and that we will meet up again. I know we will because we always do. Remember how angry I was when I had found out about you and Lauren? I said that you had abandoned me and that you had given up on us. Vaughn, I will _never_ give up on us. I'll wait for you. Even if it takes years, I will never ever forget about you or move on. I love you Vaughn. Never forget that._

_All My Love, Forever and Always;_

_Sydney & Baby Vaughn_

Drops of water spilled onto the page as Vaughn wept openly. He loved Sydney so much, and he was touched that she would do something that would bind them together forever. He picked up the delicate silver band and looked over every inch of it. Inside, he found writing. The date of October 1st, 2001 was inscribed in cursive. He wiped away more tears, and placed the ring on his finger. He didn't care how many illegal things Marshall had done, the fact that it was real made all that seem minuscule.

In the background, a new song began to play. It was an odd beginning because it sounded like ambient noises of a carnival or something.The singer began, but this time his voice seemed more normal than before.

_You know you're not a strong man _

_And you're just about to cry _

_Hang on . . . Hang on _

_It's all right . . . It's all right_

The song seemed to be tapping right into Vaughn's current state of mind.

_You worry about the future _

_Sign said "Yoga Class for Cats" _

_It's okay . . . It's okay _

_It's no fun . . ._

It still seemed to be in tune with Vaughn's emotions and how he was feeling. Except for the yoga class for cats part. What the hell did that mean?

_You're frustrated by the cracks_

_In the pavement_

_And every mother's back_

_Once again_

_The carnival closed down_

_But if this world would ever turn around_

Vaughn got up and stopped the CD. As odd as the song was in some parts, the first verse had hit on a very emotional level. One day, he would get through the whole thing, but not today. Not after everything he had gone through. He grabbed the photo of Sydney and himself off the nightstand and held it close to himself, and with the picture as his witness he made a promise.

"Sydney, you said you'd wait for me, so the least I can do is say I'll come back. So, here, in this shitty motel room, Sydney Bristow, or I guess Sydney Bristow-Vaughn now, I promise that I'll come home to you. No matter what happens, I _will_ come home to you."


	9. Chapter 9

**4 MONTHS LATER**

Sydney Bristow sat on her couch, eating a pint of Hagen-Daas. The tub of ice cream had become her best friend over the course of the last few months, and that was definitely not a good thing. Never in Sydney's entire life had she felt as alone as she did right now. Vaughn was gone, Weiss was in D.C., Nadia was in a drug-induced coma, Will was in Wisconsin, her father was still her father and Francie ... well, unfortunately Francie had met her end years ago.

Sure, Rachel was a nice girl, but Sydney just didn't feel comfortable opening up to her yet. She was making progress though. Just last week she had extended her home to Rachel, who had gratefully accepted. She had taken Nadia's room ... Nadia's _old_ room. The doctors had all but officially given up hope on her sister. Every time they brought her out of the coma, she still went all zombie-like, no matter how many drugs they pumped her full of. It saddened Sydney to no end every time the hospital phoned with what they called "news." Sydney visited Nadia weekly, to keep her up to date on the current goings-on at APO, but the truth was she could care less. APO had absolutely no lead on Prophet 5 and it was killing Sydney. As long as Gordon Dean and his minions were on the loose, Vaughn would be in danger and couldn't come home. She and Renée's "off the books" investigation wasn't spawning any leads either. Sydney liked Renée. Her "devil may care" attitude and violent tactics appealed to Sydney, and she liked learning about Vaughn ... the _other_ Vaughn.

He was a different man, Andre Michaux. Violent, overly aggressive, willing to do anything to uncover the truth behind his father's death. Sydney had only ever seen Vaughn like that when her life was in danger — and now she understood why. A part of her feared what he was capable of, and that made her hope Vaughn was keeping his end of the bargain and not pursuing Prophet 5.

"Sydney?" a meek voice asked. Sydney almost jumped up in surprise. She had forgotten Rachel had the day off too. It was rare that two APO members were allowed time off together. Plus, she was just so damn quiet.

"Yeah Rachel? You need something?"

"Ummm, I was just wondering if you kept the pickles in the fridge or in the pantry? I wanted to make a sandwich and wasn't sure where they were and I didn't want to snoop."

"They should be in the fridge," Sydney told her, getting up. "If there are any left. I pretty much devour anything I can get my hands on."

Rachel let out a nervous chuckle, but stopped abruptly and headed to the kitchen. Sydney often wondered why Rachel was so timid and insecure, but that was a question for another day. She decided that since was getting up it was time for her little tryst with the ice cream to end, so she waddled into the kitchen and handed it off to Rachel, who put it in the freezer. Walking was starting to piss Sydney off. At six months pregnant, Sydney was big. _Really_ big. Her father, Dixon, Marshall and even Sloane were flummoxed at how large she had gotten so quickly. They had all assured her early on that since she was so active, she wouldn't gain as much weight. She wished. Even getting out of bed was a hassle. She wasn't used to taking it slow, and although her doctor had assured her that she was still fine to do practically whatever she wanted, her father and Sloane kept toning down her missions. Now instead of being out and active in the field during missions, she was cooped up inside a van somewhere, acting as a handler to Rachel. Sydney couldn't understand how Vaughn had done it for so long ... there he was again. Her brain couldn't honestly go 5 minutes without thinking about him. She wondered how he was, all alone in some foreign place ... The sound of two beepers going off simultaneously snapped Sydney out of her daze. She looked to Rachel, who mouthed 'Sloane' and she sighed. So much for her day off ...

**APO'S SECRET UNDERGROUND FACILITY - 30 MINUTES LATER**

Sydney and Rachel strolled into the APO office, Syd looking pissed and Rachel looking timid like she always did. When they reached the briefing room, they found the rest of the team already there, looking more anxiety-ridden than usual. Sloane stepped forward to greet them, and beckoned for them to sit down.

"Sydney, Rachel," he began, "I'm sorry to have called you in on your day off, but it was necessary that you be here."

"Save it Sloane, what was so important that you had to interrupt my alone time?" In truth, Sydney had been dying at home, but was too proud to admit that she'd rather be here than moping around.

Sloane flicked on the screen and an oh-so familiar face appeared displayed across it. "As most of you know, this man is Julian Sark. In the past, he has been both friend and foe because of his so-called 'flexible loyalties,' but as of late, he has stayed fairly neutral. That is not the case anymore. Sources indicate that Mr. Sark was approached in broad daylight by Gordon Dean himself. Dean, apparently, is interested in acquiring a rare piece of artwork that was thought to have been destroyed in the 19th century."

"Let me guess," Sydney said dryly. "Rambaldi is somehow involved?"

"Precisely. It is believed that there is a set of numbers encoded within the paint. Those numbers are a latitude and longitude. To where, we don't know, and that's exactly the reason this painting cannot fall into the hands of Gordon Dean. Rachel, you and agents Dixon and Grace will go to Paris to recover the painting. Miss Gibson, you'll be posing as an art dealer looking to purchase a highly coveted Van Gough, but your main priority is to find Sark and keep him preoccupied whilst Dixon and Grace sneak inside and take the painting."

"Sounds simple enough," Tom said. "Just a smash and grab operation."

"It's not quite that simple Agent Grace," Sloane told him. "You'll be breaking into the Louvre."

* * *

"I can't believe you're not including me on this one!" Sydney said, outraged as she followed her father down the hall. "Sark and I have history, I know how to deal with him!" 

"Which is precisely why you're not qualified for this mission in particular!" Jack shouted, turning to face his daughter. "Sark has never met Rachel, he won't know he's being duped, at least not right away. Besides, even if I wanted to send you — which I don't — you would be too conspicuous. A part of this job is to maintain a certain sense of anonymity, and walking into an event for chic art dealers at the Louvre while you're six months pregnant is not exactly subtle."

"How can I explain this to you people," Sydney hissed, pulling her father into a corner. "I'm pregnant, not sick or dying. This is not an incapacitating disease, it's a blessing and I should continue to do this job while I still can. Trust me, you're going to miss me when I'm on leave. As for being 'too conspicuous,' that just may be the case, but pregnancy can turn into an excellent alias. Take my mission last month to Budapest as an example ..."

"Sydney, we'll debate this later. Right now, I want you to help Marshall brief Rachel, Tom and Dixon on the Op Tech."

Sydney was about to protest, but remained silent and walked away to Marshall's gadget area. She would lament to Nadia later. Right now, she had to explain everything that Marshall told the agents in layman's terms. Man could that guy babble on sometimes. As she approached the office, she saw Rachel looking off into space, obviously not understanding a word Marshall was saying. Sydney remembered when she was new and had felt that way. It seemed as if all techies spoke the same lingo and no one else understood. She believed that her Op Tech person had been a girl to start out ... Courtney something or other ...

"Hey Marshall," she said as she walked into the room. "What's the lowdown on the mission specs?"

"Oh, nothin' too fancy Syd. We have a microphone necklace with instant transmission to Agent Dixon and Agent Grace so they can have a heads up, a nice little EMP stored in the briefcase Rachel will have with her, just in case we need a quick diversion. Hopefully there are no planes flying overhead if it goes off," he chuckled, but then stopped when he realized no one was laughing with him.

Over the next half hour, Sydney helped explain the function of all Marshall's other little gadgets to Rachel, who grew increasingly queasier as she continued. Although Sydney assured her she would do fine, Rachel didn't believe it. She hadn't been trained as a field agent at "The Shed" and she wasn't sure she was capable of doing it. This would be only her second solo mission after all.

When Sydney decided there was nothing left for her to educate Rachel on, she headed towards her father's office. Without bothering to knock, she stormed in, ready to continue their conversation from earlier. Jack beat her to the punch.

"Sydney, I'm aware that you're mildly upset that you're not going on the mission," Jack began. Sydney rolled her eyes. "But it's in your best interest. Honestly. If everything goes according to plan, Agent Dixon and Agent Grace should be in and out within the hour, and Rachel will learn what a slimeball Sark is."

Sydney chuckled mildly. Her father was getting better at this whole parenting thing; he knew how to calm her down much quicker than he did when they were first reintroduced. "I can handle that Dad, it's just that I'd appreciate it if you let me know I wasn't going on a mission before you doled out who's doing what. I like to be included."

"And you will be. As soon as the team lands in Paris, you'll be informed."

"Good. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

With that, she strolled out of his office and down the hall. Sometimes it was good that her father was heading up APO. She now had "perks," however few there may be. Sydney enjoyed her work, although a lot of the time it could be a pain in the ass, and she was going to miss it when she was gone. Everyone around her assumed that "gone" meant her maternity leave, but Sydney had only told Nadia that after the baby was born, she was contemplating retiring from the spy business. She had her doctorate in literature, and decided she would become a teacher, just like she believed her mother had been. But, that was a decision for another day. Technically, she figured she was still off, so she decided to head home. Finish up that pint of Hagen-Daas, watch some sappy movies, and if she was lucky, maybe there would be a few new "junk" e-mails waiting for her ...


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, sorry to leave everyone so long without an update. Life's just been busy, but I assure you that once the summer comes, there will be more updates, because I will be out of school. I just wanted to thank all the people that are still reading this and tell you that JJ Abrams and Co. stole my plotline, lol. I'm not joking though. They wrapped up the show basically how I wanted this fic to end, and even ventured into it's sequel. All right, without further adieu, Chapter 10.**

* * *

After leaving APO and hurrying home, Sydney headed straight for the computer. She wasn't exactly a techie like Marshall, but she knew her way around the thing and used it from time to time. But recently, she had been on the computer a lot, constantly checking her e-mails. Most people headed to their inbox, obviously, to check messages from their friends, but not Sydney Bristow. Oh no, she headed straight for the junk e-mail folder. After browsing disturbing headers such as "malenhancer" and "h0rny h0uswifes," she found her desired e-mail: "Beef Wellington." She opened it and instead of beginning to read it, pulled out a pen and paper. For safety measures the e-mail was in code, so no prying eyes would be able to tell what it was. 15 minutes later, she had her message.

_Lois_

_Glad to hear you're doing good. I miss you. How are you feeling? Lots of love._

_Superman_

_PS. Bitchin' code names :)_

15 minutes of work for a message under 25 words long. But it was worth it. Every minute she was away from Vaughn felt like a lifetime.The last line did make her laugh though. In order to keep their identities secret if anyone stumbled upon a decoded message, Vaughn had said it would be best to use code names. Sydney had suggested Lois and Superman, because it was an ongoing joke that he was her Superman. He had heartily agreed. It was also where the "Beef Wellington" header had come from.

Sydney sighed, rereading the letter over and over, rubbing small circles on her belly. If she closed her eyes, it almost felt like he was with her. Her thoughts of melancholy were interrupted by the unlocking of her front door. Somebody was here. She shut the computer down immediately, and it was just in the nick of time. Jack Bristow came strolling into the house.

"So, do you just come over uninvited now?" she asked him, getting up from the computer chair.

"I just wanted to say that - " he coughed and mumbled something that, although inaudible to most, Sydney was able to catch.

"What was that?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face.

"I-I'm sorry for my actions earlier. I was out of line, and I just wanted to assure you that Sloane and I will make you sure you go on a mission soon. I'm aware that the agency will not be half of what it is now without you, and that you are still highly capable of participating in _most_ of our day to day activities. I'm just trying to keep you safe for as long as I can."

Sydney walked over to Jack and hugged him. There had been a lot of hugs between the Bristows recently, and it was a trend Sydney quite enjoyed. Even if she did have to initiate most of them.

"Apology accepted," she told him. "Now why are you really here? Checking up on your favourite daughter?"

"What makes you think that you're my favourite daughter?" he said, his expression serious.

"That was a little cold dad. Since I am technically your only daughter, I think I automatically receive the highly coveted position of favourite," she said, sarcasm reaching a high at the end of her sentence.

"Sydney, I understand that tension is running high, but there is no need to get defensive. I was merely ... joking around."

Sydney scoffed. "The day Jack Bristow 'jokes around' is the day pigs will fly."

"Don't underestimate the pigs Sydney, they're smarter than people give them credit for."

Sydney was going to roll her eyes, but decided against it. Instead, she just smiled in that polite way of hers, and got down to business.

"So, since I'm assuming it this isn't a social callhas the team arrived in Paris?"

"Not yet, they're en route as we speak. I came here to talk to you about Sloane."

"Sloane? Now there's a discussion I can't wait to have ..."

"Sydney, I understand you and Sloane aren't on the best of terms, and really never have been, but I'm worried that in his current mental state, he may do something rash. More rash than usual."

Sydney thought back to the last time Sloane had done something "rash." It had resulted in nothing but pain. Her sister had been shot and turned into what could only be classed as a zombie. Her mother had been forced to leave, yet again, and was missing out on one of the most important events in Sydney's life. Her aunt, Elena, had been shot and killed by none other than her own mother (even if it was for the best), and she had witnessed agent Brodine's death. Sure, he was a bit pompous and arrogant regarding heractions on the Shanghai mission but A) it was all a setup and B) she had pierced his ear, which looked fairly painful, so he deserved to be a bit angry with her. He definitely didn't deserve death-by-zombie.

"Okay ... I guess it's in my best interest to listen. What do you have to say about him?"

"You're well aware that since Nadia's been in a coma, Sloane has been more on the edge than usual. A few months ago, it came to my attention that a new Rambaldi artifact may have come into play. I've been trying to keep this information a secret from Sloane by monitoring his incoming calls and internet usage, but I believe he may have gotten word from an unknown source and that he now knows about the artifact."

"So? If Sloane chooses to go Rambaldi on our asses again, there's nothing we can do to stop him. You know as well as I do that he sees Rambaldi's work as ... religious. He will do anything to see his works brought forth."

"Yes, but right now, he's conflicted. A part of him wishes to fulfill Rambaldi's work and bring forth his master creation, but the part of him that still feels human emotion wants to use Rambaldi's knowledge of life to cure Nadia. There is a course of action I would like to take, but I felt I needed your permission first."

Sydney didn't like the sounds of this. Anything that required her father to ask _her_ permission wasn't going to be delightful.

"What exactly do you need my permission for?"

"I want to tell Sloane that there may be a possible cure for Nadia, but in order to do this, you'd need to be willing to pretend that there really _is _a cure. Create false leads and information, act as optimistically about it as possible, and, what I'm sure will trouble you the most, you must lie to your fellow members of APO and outright tell them there is a real cure while you send them on bogus missions."

Sydney let the weight of her father's words sink in. Although lying really shouldn't have been problematic after years of working in this particular field, it was. Her incessant need to tell the truth was the one thing that separated her from other agents, and could be both her greatest strength as well as her greatest weakness. Sydney learned how to compartmentalize her feelings during the very beginning of her training for what she believed to be the CIA, but she hated having to use it, because that normally meant she was hiding something big. The year and a half of pretending to work for SD-6 while she was actually working for the real CIA had been both physically and emotionally taxing. Each day of having to walk into the office, plaster on a fake smile and lie to her friends had killed her a little bit inside. What her father was asking her do not only went against her own moral code, but the code of the CIA, and she wasn't sure she could follow through with it. Then again, if it helped stop Sloane from doing anymore damage ...

"Can't you give me some time to think about this? It's a big decision. We work with these people everyday, and you're asking me to send them on missions and possibly put there lives at risk for no reason whatsoever?"

"I gave you a reason Sydney. You've seen Sloane at his worst, you know the lengths he will go to in order to obtain a Rambaldi artifact. There are times in life you must sacrifice personal freedoms to see that the greater good prevails."

"Don't talk to me about sacrifice!" she hissed. "I've had to give up practically _everything _for this 'greater good' and so far, I haven't seen much of a change in the world. There's still war, there's still terrorism, there's still evil. It seems like there's one bad guy after another. They're like weeds: once you get rid of one, two more pop up in its place."

"I'm well aware your faith in the CIA has been shaken, but you have to realize that you entered into this field knowing full on what you were giving up. I even tried to dissuade you. In the end, it was your choice to continue living this life. Now are you going to help me or not?"

Sydney was internally conflicted. She wanted nothing more than to tell her father to shut up and that she was planning on leaving the spy lifestyle once and for all, but as of now, that wasn't an option. She had to remember that getting Vaughn back home safely was her top priority, and that sacrifices were indeed going to need to be made. She sighed a deep sigh, and made her choice.

"All right."

"All right?"

"I'll help you, but on one condition. You have to promise me that once this is all over and done with, and Sloane isn't at risk of doing something devious, you will tell the team what we've done."

Jack looked his daughter in the eyes, and could tell that she was not going to accept no for an answer. She was so stubborn, a trait she obviously inherited from both sides of her gene pool. There would be no argument, merely the answer Sydney wanted, and expected, to hear.

"Agreed. But until the appropriate time, I expect you to keep this under wraps. We will speak about this when and only when _I _initiate the conversation, and there is no wiggle room on this Sydney. If Sloane even hears whispers that the cure for Nadia is a false lead, there is a good possibility he will snap. Personally, I do not wish to suffer the consequences that would befall us if he did."

"I understand."

With that, Jack turned on his heel and strode towards Sydney's doorway. He stopped as his phone began to ring. Father and daughter looked at each other knowingly. The team had arrived.


End file.
